Compressed
by coffup
Summary: [Saku?] Sakura suffers from depression and deep selfloathing. One night, a winged figure saves her from her death and leaves her more confused than she was in the beginning.


**A/N:** So, I've begun a new story. Why? Because I'm crazy, that's why. Actually, I was just randomly writing in my xanga and out came this piece of writing so I thought I'd post it. I've got an idea of where to take it, but I don't know. I like it. It's snazzy.

**Disclaimer:** I own no Naruto. Damn you Kishi-whatever-your-name-is-Moto-something.

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**Things to know:**

**Bolded script is just the ramblings of Inner Sakura.**

_Italicized words are merely thoughts of anyone._

"..." - Speech. You know... when people talk to each other and have conversations.

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_**Compressed**_

**Chapter One: Begin.**

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His wings bent in on themselves, crumpling neatly and tucking themselves underneath the skin on the small of his back. His breathing was harsh, ragged, and as he stared at the crumbling asphalt between his flat palms, he sighed. He was on his hands and knees, barely able to keep himself up and he was trembling all the while. His shirt had ripped when his ebony wings had shot forth from him in order to propel him into the sky and off of the ground. 

He had caught the anonymous female he had seen falling, but he had almost killed himself in doing so. The female had brown hair, no distinguishing features, and had jumped several minutes ago from a fifth story balcony. She had fainted in her drop and was now breathing softly, her breath blowing her hair to and fro.

He paused to think.

_This._

He had almost killed himself for this. This pathetic creature who dyed her hair and denied who she was with a passion. This pathetic creature who wanted to die.

He got shakily to his feet and wiped futiley at his knees, trying to get the dark grit of asphalt (which only he could see) out of his pants. He put his shaky hands to his stomach and grappled at his shirt. He tugged lightly at it and wasn't surprised when it came away in his hands in pieces. He had to stop saving random females. It was annoying and he always ruined his shirts.

He took two steps forward and bent over, pulling at the girl, trying to get her into a recovery position. He noticed now, more than ever, that she was no beauty. Her forehead was too large, and her face was... boring? He didn't know how to describe it. She wasn't ugly, but she didn't have anything that stood out. He wondered what color her eyes were.

Snorting, he turned around, a scowl alive and well on his lips. He ran a hand through his hair and without a backwards glance, he jumped up and took flight; he needed a new shirt. And he needed to wash his pants.

The brunette watched him fly away with open wonder in her eyes. She looked from the soaring figure in the sky to the balcony she was sure she had lept from. One more quick glance was all she got at the flying man before he blended into the night sky, his wings still making a slight _whoosh-whoosh _noise as he flapped away.

She sat up slowly, unable to process what had just happened. She remembered thanking the gods for giving her choice. Remembered doling out consoling remarks in her head to the ones she would leave behind. Remembered shutting her eyes and hoping her skull was crushed on impact just before she lept from the balcony.

And now... she had seen a giant bat-like man. Fly away from her. Into the night.

Fly.

With wings.

Large, leathery contraptions that seemed unable to hold up a mouse, let alone a grown man.

But he had been flying. She was sure of it.

Now sitting, she pressed a hand to her stomach and one to her mouth as she fought the urge to vomit up the contents of her full stomach.

_Who was he?_

_**What **_**was he?**

_Leave me alone. I'm thinking._

**Two heads are better than one. **

She stood up slowly, reveling in the fact that she was still alive, still breathing, still able to feel bile as it worked its way up her throat. She swallowed hard and managed to take two shaky steps before she threw up.

She tried not to listen as the contents of her stomach hit the uneven pavement before her. All of her expensive wine and appetizers she had treated herself to as a last meal came back up as an acidic, liquidy glue.

She fell over, knees weak, shivering and fighting the urge to cry. She was so confused. She was supposed to be dead, but was not. She had just seen a leathery-winged man fly through the sky.

Was she crazy? Had she always been crazy and only now it was manifesting? Or maybe she had always been crazy and this was what sane people saw all the time and just never spoke about? No, she was going to drive herself crazy if she kept thinking about this.

**Crazier than you already are? Is that even possible?**

_Shut up._

**I mean, I don't think you're crazy.**

_Considering the fact that you're one half of this craziness, I don't think your opinion matters. You're not even real. _

**Maybe I'm real and you're not. **

She tried desperately to hold in her tears, years of training working in her favour. The fact that she was only inches away from her own personal pool of vomit was working against her favour. How disgusting.

She couldn't even kill herself right. God was out to get her, that stupid bastard. Not letting people die. How fucked. She pulled her pyjama clad knees to her chest and wept quietly into her wrists.

Crying was bad. It was bad to show emotions.

**No emotions allowed, kunoichi.**

_Mind your own business. _

**Whatever. I'm you, you're me. We're stuck together, toots. **

_Fuck off. _She snarled at the miniature charicature she had found in her mind. _Just leave me alone for a while to wallow in peace. All right? Can you do that?_

For once, silence was Sakura's answer as she wept.

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The end. Love me and review. Hate me and review. In the end, just review and tell me how to fix this up. Or just ask me for my address so you can send me millions of dollars in valuable bonds, stocks, and jewels. But I'd much rather prefer thought-provoking reviews full of valuable insight and what-not. 


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